The Distant Crown
Chapter One "You’re bleeding on the linoleum, Estrid." Master Odo did not look up from his splicing work, the hot iron hissing against the celluloid strips scattered across the floor of the projection booth. The air smelled of burnt rubber and the damp wool of the coat hanging on the hook by the door. Estrid Berg, thirty-four years old and an archivist of the Crown’s fragments, stared at her...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews